


Half-Light

by nottsknots



Series: The Twilight Saga [1]
Category: Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst and Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottsknots/pseuds/nottsknots
Summary: Bella Swan meets Edythe Cullen on her first day at the University of Washington. Her life becomes entwined with the secrets of a stranger, and dangers outside of human possibility threaten a once peaceful fresh start. In Edythe Bella feels she has met her beginning, but the risk from which she cannot turn may very well walk her towards her beautiful, golden-eyed end.





	1. First Sight

_ “I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!” _

_   
― Emily Brontë, [Wuthering Heights](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1565818) _

* * *

** "I'LL MISS THE SUNLIGHT." **

“None of that here, kiddo.”

It could have been a joke, it could have been a solemn forewarning. I was too tired to decide how I would take it. 

The scenes flinging themselves past my window in colors of green and black were familiar blurs, distorted shapes of a comforting shade.

Under a near constant cover of cloud and rain, in the northwestern territory of Washington state, there is a town called Forks. It’s population is slim, declining with the years. Constant industry changes and lack of economic structure left the long-standing citizens countable on two hands. Many of them I could remember from my childhood. Bobby Coligen, the fish supplier for half the town. Marissa S., as her name tag professed, the waitress at the diner, run down and indistinct enough to forget by name. Charlie Swan, chief of police. My father.

“Lucky I’m not stuck here,” this one came out as a joke, and Charlie let out a begrudging laugh.

“Seattle won’t give you anymore sunshine, sweetheart,” he said. “Just a lot more…livelihood.”

“It’ll be good to have a quieter place to come back to,” I said it for the thousandth time. Provide relief to the grieving parents. “The drive will be nice.”

He nodded, chewing absently on nothing. “Place to relax after midterms or whatever it is they do these days.”

“There are midterms, dad. And finals.”

“Mm.”

It rains on this town more than anywhere in the United States. My sun-loving, space-case, scrapbooking mother tucked me under her arm and ducked for the south when I was three years old. I spent occasional, dreary summers reading in a makeshift guest bedroom until my adolescence, when I stomped my foot and forced my father into the light for vacations west instead. 

I would not live in this town. I would visit, surely. But a bigger city suited me best. I was headed for Seattle.

My mother had been surprised. I hadn’t gone anywhere north of the Arizona border since I was twelve, and I had the kind of groundings in high school that kept you in places. My college application process had been specific. I was looking for a decent school, as most graduates in the top fifty percent of their graduating class were, and, as any 18 year old might be, I was itching for change. Sort of. I wanted my claim to some exciting shift in my life. I also wanted to stay at home. I loved my mother, I loved our house. I loved her C level sports star husband, Phil, who had awkwardly entered my life in a less than eloquent transition, far too late in my teens to provide advice or comfort. I loved the dry heat of Arizona, all of the spaces in Phoenix that I’d filled with my own life. I met myself in the middle. After understanding that the University of Washington held a national rank well above any place I could slot into in Arizona, I decided it was the only other place in the country I could go that would leave me with an education decent enough to enter the work market, without simultaneously casting me out from everything that I could call home. 

So it had been one acceptance letter, an immediate decision. Months of teary goodbye’s with long held friends, one sobbing mess at the Tuscan International Airport. A grunting chief of police driving too long on a crowded highway, breathing heavily up the stairs to a one bedroom apartment I could only afford through financial aid. Financial aid, and admittedly, a cheery check from a minor league baseball star happy to finally have a parental role to fill. 

“Need anything, Bells?”

Seeing Charlie stand in this tiny bedroom was satirical- it was clear he wasn’t sure about the place. He was frowning, and every time the security door buzzed downstairs, he looked skeptical, as if each gangly high school graduate was going to be some secret mass murderer. 

“Nope.” I made sure to smile. Neither of us were particularly skilled in conversation. Neither of us were particularly suited to speak extensively with each other for the first time in years.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You call your mother.”

“I will!”

“You call me.”

“That, too.”

“Tell Renee that I say hello.”

“I figured you’d have talked about all of this yourself,” I raised an eyebrow, sitting myself on an unmade bed. 

He exhaled, furrowing his brow at the noise a group of boys made as they rustled past my door. 

“We may have chatted once or twice,” he relented. 

Quick to move on from talking about his friendship with his ex-wife, Charlie surveyed the room once more. 

“That desk should be fine,” he nodded in it’s direction near the window. “Lamp and chair are all good two. Just been sitting back in your old room unused for about ten years now, so can’t imagine they’ll cause you any trouble.”

“Right, Dad.”

He was stalling, I could tell, rocking on his heels, trying to find something to fix. It was his way of telling me that he’d miss me, even if I just got home. Even if my three hour drive wasn’t expansively shorter than the four hour flight.

“Thanks,” I offered. I didn’t want to usher him out, but the thought of unpacking and decorating alone was making me excited, impatient.

“Sure,” he nodded again. “Sure, of course.”

“Have a safe drive back?”  
The lightbulb sparked. 

“Yeah,” he gave me a forced smile. “Once I’m off that damn highway, it won’t be a problem.”

The laugh that came was easy. I stood from my bed. I was ready to usher. “Sounds good, Dad.”

The half armed hug that he gave me was tight, and after he made his way down the stairs, I saw him throw a glance back up from my window. He threw his arm up in a wave. I waved back. 

I walked to the end of the room, clicked the lock shut. 

I sighed. Day done. I had spent the morning with my mother and her tears, the rest of the day with Charlie. Class was tomorrow, where I would have to throw myself into a sea of 31,000. 

The apartment was nice. I thought the apartment was nice. A one bedroom with a small bathroom, and even smaller kitchen. The west facing window was larger than the one I’d had in Phoenix, though I was certain there would be less to see. Even the light drizzle now obstructed any clear view, and the view was nothing special. I was at the edge of the city, facing a block of dark forest. No city skyline for me, and a half hour commute to campus. I was, however, still very much within the city limits, as the noise below reminded me. 

Unpacking was a ritual process, and by the end of it, I felt more at home. I adjusted the lamp so that the light in the room felt more bright and natural. I made the bed with care, unpacked a scarce wardrobe of Washington appropriate clothes into a pine dresser which had also come from my old room, and a box of favorite books I had paid to bring with my luggage on the flight. It wasn’t until dinner was cooked, new dishes done, that the nerves started in on me. A sort of sick feeling landed in my stomach as I squinted in the mirror to pull my hair up. Dark, thick, hard to manage. 

Crawling into bed, I closed my eyes. My door moved a bit against its lock, as a pack of girls laughed and jostled their way through the hallway. I exhaled through my teeth. The weight of the day was settling over me. The flight, the moving of boxes. Saying goodbye to my mother, my father, hours away. A few tears slipped out, hot and fast.

This small place, in this big city, which I would have to call home. 

This was just the beginning. 

I woke to a wall of fog. I couldn’t see out of either window- the light was dull grey and hard to navigate. It looked as if I had tried to paint over my windows. I would need more lighting. Still I made my way to the bathroom, bothering not with the display of makeup already cluttered around my sink. The lighting outside would do no good, and besides, I had fallen out of the high school habit in previous years.

Breakfast was a somber event of oatmeal and blueberries, and it wasn’t until I had slipped into a coat that felt too cumbersome, that I realized that I was going to be late for my first day of college.

Darting out the door did me no good, and the bundle of nerves which had remained overnight tightened in the pit of my stomach. Waiting for the King County Metro was agony, and even after a twenty minute bus ride, I found that I had gotten off at the wrong end of campus.

Not that you would be able to tell from the amount of students. Freshman were adorned in purple t-shirts, sweatshirts, jackets. _New huskies falling in line_. 

I swallowed hard. Closed my eyes and chose a passing stranger. Dark hair. Square glasses of the thin, silver material that had become so popular. 

“Um,” I bolted forward to catch her bustling pace, tapping perhaps too hard on her shoulder. She turned, and looked me up and down as if expecting to recognize me. When she didn’t, her eyebrows raised, but she stopped nonetheless.

“Hi,” I said. “Do you think you could help me? I got off at the wrong stop.”

To my relief, the stranger smiled, and it was accompanied by a short laugh. “I can try. It’s my first day, too.”

“I’m trying to get to Padelford.” 

“Oh!” She brightened at this. “Sure. I think my advisor has an office there. So, we’re near the stadium,” she jutted her thumb behind us to the massive, airline sponsored sports complex. “You’ve got a bit of a walk.”

She had taken out a map, and her ringed finger traced a line for me. Past the hub, the sylvan theater, and a coffee shop I thought I had stopped at on my initial tour.

“Thanks,” I nodded, trying to convey that I understood. 

“Good luck,” she offered. “That building houses like, three departments. I read an article in the campus magazine just about that building. Apparently the professors with offices there still have a hard time navigating it.”

I imagined walking into a classroom of sixty, on the first day, as the last one to enter, mid-lecture. My stomach tightened. 

“Thanks,” I said again. Less enthusiastic.

“Hey, my name is Angela.” The map was being pushed into my hands. “You can keep this. I have a dozen.”  
“Thank you so much,” enthusiasm returned. I tried to meet her gaze, pushing my nerves aside. This was a real human being, the first one of my age I had interacted with since arriving in the state. “I’m Bella. Are you from here?”

“Kind of,” she said. “I went to high school in Forks. Small town not far from here.”

“Forks!” I brightened. “My dad lives there! I spent a lot of my childhood in Forks.”

“Did you go to high school here in Seattle?”  
“No,” I waved my hand- let’s not get into it now. The dread was starting to creep back into my awareness. “Arizona. Hey, thanks again! Really, this was super nice of you. But I’m running late!”

I was walking as fast I could without trying to run. There was a new phone number in my cell phone. Angela Weber, with a smiley face after the r.

A resource, at least. Not bad for the first five minutes on campus. 

Angela the biology major had been right. Padelford was more than a maze, it was a fortress. The corridors were suffocating, for reasons I couldn’t recognize, alarms were going off in my head. Something felt wrong, dangerous. There were dead end hallways, staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere. The large, prison-style windows didn’t help. Every time I managed to find one, in hopes of getting a glance of a nearby landmark to orient which direction I was facing or headed, I was met with the same blank white cage that had engulfed my apartment this morning. I don’t know how long I spent, darting between classrooms, looking at the numbers and growing increasingly frustrated when they never matched the one I was looking for. My heart was pounding, and I was sure that I was blushing, by the time I had settled in front of what I could hope was the correct door. I took a deep breath. I adjusted the strap on my backpack. I toed open the heavy door to the classroom. I stepped inside. It was then that I saw her for the first time.

She was sitting with her back straight, her eyes wide and impossibly dark. Her lithe body stiff, still. Perhaps her position was a signal of her discomfort, but it only allowed for the betrayal of her frame. The line of her jaw, the curve of her cheekbones. The flat slate of her stomach. This was beauty that was only believable in sculptures, in poorly captured historical portraits, in modern European models. Perhaps there was a reason that the seat next to her was open. My feet were moving before I could think of whether or not this was what I wanted. Perhaps there was a reason that I took it. If she had been moving at all before, as I passed her to take my seat, all functions ceased completely. She was entirely unmoving, not even a strand of her hair- a muted, pale auburn, falling in waves just below her chin- had moved, as if she had the ability to command every inch of her. I set my bag down at my feet. Her eyes were not just dark- but unbelievably, black. I learned this after I steeled myself, to dare a glance in her direction. I could feel it now, and identify it accurately, sweeping off of her like a perfume, like a poison. It was her rage that had glued me here, permanent and penetrating. It was rage that had turned her eyes, that had steeped through her body in such a volatile way- rage, hostile and absolute. Trying to realign myself, I turned my gaze back to the board, to the professor who was now writing on it. I tilted my head, craned my neck, fingered a loose strand of hair that had stuck to my collarbone, brushing it back. Unmistakably, audibly, in the hush of the classroom, I heard the sharp crack of a pencil snapping. She held the two broken halves, desperately, between her slender fingers.

Syllabus mumblings. _To my freshman students, you will address me as Dr. Weyes, please_. The books we would be expected to read- _Pride and Prejudice, Citizen: An American Lyric, The Sound and the Fury_. No late assignments accepted, attendance required. I felt restricted somehow, like some section of my brain had been carted off for something else. I was never unaware of the uninviting presence next to me. So strong was her abhorrence, that it felt fair to assume that the stranger next to me hated me, immediately, forever. Roll call. 

“Bella Swan,” I managed. My voice sounded meek. Perhaps, with enough of this, I would cry.

The voice next to me, strangled, dense. Beautiful, like chimes. Ancient.

“Edythe Cullen.”

_Edythe_. Edythe Cullen. Edythe Cullen, who hated that anybody sat next to her. Edythe Cullen who hated that _I_ sat next to her.

As soon as Dr. Weyes began the exclamation that class had ended, that we were free to go, Edythe was out of her chair. Before I could begin to track her movements, she was out of the door. It clicked shut behind her. Others rose, some chatted. I stayed until the room was empty. The weight of the building had not left me, but it had shifted now that I was alone. The breath that I let out was shuddering. 

I felt that maybe, I wanted to go home.

I felt cold. 

I did not know that this would not go away.


	2. Open Book

**"OKAY, BUT HOW DO YOU KNOW SHE HATES YOU?"**

“Angela,” I groaned. “She broke the pencil in half!”

“People have bad days, Bella.” I shifted on the bed, running a hand down my face to glare over at her.

She was perched on the chair which we’d moved to face away from the desk. Her hair was up in a bun, socked foot brushing the hard wood floor.

“People have bad days but they don’t react to the presence of a stranger, in a classroom, where a stranger is supposed to be!”

“Okay,” she shifted a bit, pushing the desk closer to the bed, where I was sprawled, dutifully ignoring the homework which I had barely bothered to take out of my bag. “Tell me about it again.”

I huffed.

We had permanently chosen my apartment for study sessions which would dissolve into languid hangouts, after an awkward but stifled conversation which shared that I had an apartment to myself, and Angela had a much smaller dorm, featuring a roommate whose anguish was over missed christian club meetings and entrance requirements to her list of sororities.

“First of all, Padelford was weird. But you warned me about that. I was all disoriented. The whole thing felt off. I get to the classroom and she just… ugh.” I twisted on the bed again. Though I had thought it through nearly a thousand times on my own, none of it sounded right when I tried to say it out loud. I sat up. How did I put that feeling into words? How did I convey it to somebody else without sounding crazy? Was it crazy? “She was so tense, Angela. She was glaring at me. And her eyes were so dark, she was so furious when I sat next to her. It was like we had met before, and had some kind of disastrous fight, and then didn’t see each other for years.”

“And then the pencil broke,” Angela was being patient, smiling lightly down at me.

“And then the pencil broke! And!” I swiveled to face her. “She hasn’t been in class since!”

“I’m sure there are extenuating circumstances to that bit,” she offered. “There’s a whole life of hers outside of you, Bella,” she leaned forward to ruffle my hair. “She doesn’t even know you.”

“But,” I insisted. “She hates me. That’s the mystery. She doesn’t know me! She hates me.”

“Doesn’t hate you!”

“Yes!” I was almost laughing now. “She hates me! Edythe Cullen hates me!”

Angela had been smiling too, almost laughing. Her face had deadened, her features creasing.

“What did you just say?” Her tone was serious enough to make me stop.

I fell back on my knees, and I felt my smile fall.

“Edythe Cullen hates me?”

“This girl,” she was speaking slowly now. “That you’ve been talking about. You know for certain that her name is Cullen?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I was there for roll call. That is indeed her name.”

“Bella,” it was Angela’s turn to run a hand over her face. “Jesus, it makes so much sense.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Right,” she shook her head a bit, scooted the chair closer so that her feet were also on the bed. “It’s going to be a little difficult to explain. But, I went to high school with Edythe. And all of her siblings.”

“Big family?”

Angela had done a fine job of capturing my attention. Edythe was from _Forks_. For no reason known to me, I found myself thinking back through every interaction with a stranger from my childhood. Had I ever met her? Did Charlie know her parents? Had I ever seen her before, as a child? The thought of Edythe as a child was estranged for me, completely unnatural.

“Yes. No. I mean, kind of. Edythe has a lot of adopted siblings. Four of them, I think. They’re… an odd family.”

“Is there something like,” I paused to chew on my bottom lip. “Wrong with them?”

“No! I mean,” Angela sighed. “They’re all old enough. And they are adopted. But they’re like. Together.”

“What?”

“They like, date each other. They were all adopted at different times, and from what any of us could figure, none of it involved anything from childhood.” I was startled, and a little confused. Was Edythe with someone? What was her family like? Where had they come from?

“And the parents are alright with it?”

“Honestly, if you ask me, I don’t think they’re that involved. Their father is the only high profile doctor in Forks, and nobody knows a thing about their mother. They were all adopted at different ages, but I think Edythe has been with them the longest.”

“Is her behavior… normal? Like does she freak out like that?” “

She was always very quiet. Honestly everyone had so many things to say about them that I can’t blame them for staying out of the way. One of the sisters is the only one that ever bothered trying to socialize, but like I said. Small town, people talk. They graduated in silence. I didn’t even know Edythe was coming here.”

“Oh.”

My head was wrapping around it slowly. What the doctor and his wife had done was nothing but kind, and it was only through convention that the high schoolers in that small town felt they had anything to say. Moving around in your teens couldn’t have been easy on the kids, and on top of that, to feel constant judgement and isolation from your peers… it would make any kind of sense for Edythe to hold social apprehensions.

“Nobody was that mean, like, directly to their faces,” Angela was quick to add. “But they had to know what everyone was saying.” Her lips pursed, and she creased her eyes. “Some of my friends were particularly awful about it.”

“Wow,” I exhaled. “Well. I think that helps me to some degree, at least I think.”

“The Cullens clearly have their own lives, Bella. I think its best to relieve yourself of the torture, and brush it off. You’ve been thinking about it too much.”

I exhaled again, and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right!”

“It’s probably really good for them to be going to such a big university,” Angela seemed to have brightened a bit. “People from all over here, with more than one kind of background, you know? Maybe just try again whenever Edythe comes back. Give her her space, and try being nice. She probably just gets really nervous, considering the shit people were saying just less than a year ago.”

I bit on my bottom lip. Admittedly, I had been planning for some kind of confrontation. I was wrapped up in my head about it.

“And don’t worry about the absences,” she said. “Dr. Cullen drags his kids out camping whenever possible. Literally, they were gone all the time, and it didn’t make a difference. I think all of them tied with for first or second in the class. Look,” Angela leaved forward, and tapped her finger on the side of my temple. “Just cool it. Wait for Edythe to come back, be nice to her, and take it from there.”

“Yes,” I smiled. “Okay. You’re right.”

Angela’s company was nice. She was funny, and helpful in my intro chemistry class that I already knew I would be struggling to pass. She told me more about her high school experience in Forks, and her friends, the places they had gone to school. Her budding relationship with fellow classmate Eric, who was also a freshman here, focusing, excitedly, on journalism. After promising to meet him over a lunch or a trip north, a few derailed hours in which we talked about how often we got our hair cut, subjects we definitely hated and what we thought we wanted to do with our lives. By the time I walked her out, I had decidedly given up on finishing my homework, punishing my future self for no reason at all.

Later, back in my bed, curling under the heat of my blankets, the same vivid face was flashing in my mind. Against my will, I collected what I knew of Edythe Cullen. She was quiet. Exiled, perhaps unwillingly, to social isolation with her seemingly estranged siblings. Were they all friends? Did they get along after merging together at such odd ages? Were they all from the same area? She was smart. I imagined what she did in her free time, what her favorite subjects were. Was she taking English as an elective, where did her interests reside? The fascination made little to no sense to me, but it was settled in my brain like a parasite.

I hadn’t even seen her since that first and only encounter.

But it had been impressionable enough to leave an imprint in my mind, in my daily routines.

My apartment was cold, but at least I was learning to fall asleep with the sound of the rain.

It was nearly the third week of class when I saw Edythe Cullen for the second time. I was in the same position I had been the first, entering the classroom a few minutes late- though, now accustomed to the strange and foreboding building architecture- less flustered. Though I had thought myself prepared to see her again, to say something almost immediately on entrance, the sight of her was equivalent to running into a brick wall.

A beautiful, stiff, sculpted brick wall.

I sucked in a breath, and forced my way, quickly, with my head down, to the same seat I had been sitting in since day one. There was no immediate reaction. In fact, as far as I could tell, she didn’t even look up as I made my way to the chair. I was slow in taking my notebook out of my bag, the pen that accompanied it, organizing the layout of the table before me. It wasn’t until I felt I was situated, together, that I allowed myself a glance back in her direction. Though still stiff, it wasn’t as nearly as noticeable as the first time, and there was no black-eyed glare to force me out of the space that I had, insofar, considered mine.

I did not keep my gaze, and I let my hair fall between us, convincing myself that perhaps I would pay absolute attention today.

Realistic.

Edythe had been permeating my subconscious almost completely in her absence, and here she was, sat next to me.

Things felt cooler this time. Edythe, I noticed immediately, was tapping a pencil. Not quickly, anxiously, but absentmindedly, like a habit. A normal, human habit.

“Hello.” The voice next to me was as light as wind chimes. Her tone was gentle, musical. No longer pressed against itself as it had been before. Before I could think about my actions, before I could determine what it was I wanted to be doing, I straightened immediately, turning my face to hers so rapidly that I thought my neck would be sore. My eyes were wide, and I felt the blush pool on my cheeks.

Her gaze was normal, gentle.

Perhaps her behavior of the past really had nothing to do with me. Personal problems existed, I reminded myself. _Angela said to be nice. Get out of my head about it. _

I was, during all of this, startled silence by the beauty that was now so much closer to me than I could have prepared for. In all the thinking I had done in the past week, I would have imagined that I had memorized her face. And yet, here I was, the curves of her cheeks and the barest movements of her lips captivating me into silence.

“My name is Edythe Cullen,” she said. I knew that already, but it was polite.

“I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself before. You’re Isabella, I remember.” I felt myself frowning.

“I go by Bella,” I corrected. I hoped my voice wasn’t coming out as rude as it sounded to me.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” she offered lightly. The laugh in her voice was enticing. “I should have remembered.”

Had I made everything up? What was going on? In her absence, had her hostility been dramatized in my mind?

Edythe had no chance to respond before Dr. Weyes started class. We were to be learning to do work in groups, to take away the isolated, individualized thinking process that came from reading books alone. _Your will each turn in your own worksheet, but the answers, believe it or not, must be exactly the same. I want you to learn how to think through literary theory together_.

“Get started,” came the gentle command, with a smile.

“Would you like to go first?” Edythe asked. The crooked smile painted across her features was so beautiful, I had to make sure that I was breathing normally.

“Or, I could start. If you wish.” The smile quickly faded.

I wasn’t keeping up!

“No!” I quickly offered. “I can.” I knew what to do. I had read Pride and Prejudice in high school.

“Mrs. Hurst,” I spoke only the answer to the first question. A measly worksheet which looked as though it was ripped from some online quiz prep for ninth graders. I allowed a glance back in her direction, catching just the slope of her neck. “Mrs. Hurst is who Elizabeth would least prefer to spend time with.”

“Do you mind if I check the question?” I had already been sliding the worksheet in her direction to copy the answer, but she was moving as well.

Her hand caught mine.

Her finders were ice cold, as if she’d washed her hands in freezing water before class.

Though, the reason that I jerked myself away from her so harshly, as to pull my whole body away from hers, was the jolt that shocked itself from the side of my hand to the back of my calfs.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She pulled her hand back, self-conscious. Even so, I saw her scanning my answer, nodding in response.

“We agree,” she said, moving her hand to record her own answer. She was scanning the next question, and, before I could read it, said, “Pemberley.”

I was careful to control my voice, and the smile I wanted to break.

“Do you mind if I check?”

She demolished the smirk, but not before I could catch it. Something in me soared. I scanned the question, and bit my lip. She was correct.

“Next?” I moved to take the paper back, and kept my gaze down. I noted that she was particularly careful not to touch me again.

We finished before I could render than anybody else was ready to hand their papers in. I estimated that this might have been because some of these students knew each other, or were taking more time to talk about things that had nothing to do with the assignment, or hadn’t done the reading at all.

This left me with nothing left to do except force myself to not stare at her so obviously, while I was so close to her. I was unsuccessful, though, I imagined at least that I was being quick enough about it to make it seem as if I were just absently gazing at anything, everything- not just her.

Though, the stolen glances, as short as they were, had revealed something.

I couldn’t stop myself from saying the very first thing that came to my mind.

“Did you get contacts?” My sudden question, completely removed from our work, seemed to visibly force her back, as if I had pushed her chair away.

“I- yes,” she spoke stiffly. Before I could say anything else, she had shrugged, turned her shoulder towards me, clearly turning this line of conversation off.

I was positive of the shift. The flat black color of her eyes had been the center of my fixation for the last week, the color had been damningly haunting against her complexion, the color of her hair. Today they were markedly different. They were ocher, darker than honey, not quite caramel, but golden, nonetheless. I thought that perhaps that colored contacts had gone out of fashion years ago. Could they be paired with prescriptions? I looked down. Her hands were tight fists. Perhaps she would make herself bleed.

“It started snowing today,” Edythe said. Her voice was completely dulled. Like I had somehow managed to suck the life out of it.

“I didn’t know,” I said. “That’s too bad.”

For some reason, I couldn’t concentrate. It was as if Padelford had gotten back inside my head.

“You don’t like the cold.” She did not pose it as a question.

“Or the wet.” “

And you’ve moved to Seattle?” As if she had forgotten my earlier truancy, she seemed fascinated, though she wasn’t looking at me, simply ahead, unfocused. The question was almost demanding. I raised my chin, defiant against something I couldn’t identify.

“This is a good school. Location doesn’t matter that much.” I thought I saw her shoulders raise in laughter, though she made no sound.

“I beg to differ.” “

So you love the winter, then,” I challenged. She raised an eyebrow, and her eyes slid over to me. I felt myself locked into place- her statuesque status from day one had paralyzed me completely. My palms felt warm, my head fuzzy.

“I am completely indifferent. As you said,” her voice was melodic. “This is a good school.”

“And what are you here to do with that?”

“I am undecided. What about you?”

I nodded at the room in front of us. “This. I imagine a few painstaking years of general intro classes before I’ll feel satisfied, but. Literature.”

“So you’re not from here. Where did you come from?” The question was quiet, and it felt as though there was some extra layer that I could not identify. As if I was not even meant to hear it.

“My mother lives in Arizona. My father lives in the state, so I’m at least familiar with the area. Not all of this is brand new and terrible.”

“But some of it is,” she prodded. “Terrible?”

“Why would you care about that?” The comment came out more as a snap that I had meant, and I immediately recoiled.

“I don’t know, myself.” Edythe’s response was graceful, playful. Unbearably quiet. I couldn't even be misunderstood. I sat for a moment, silent.

"Am I wrong," she insisted. "About the fact that you find some of your time here terrible?"

"Everybody finds things terrible," I countered. "Don't you know that life isn't always fair? That sometimes the things that you want have more than just its benefit?"

"Yes," she soothed. "I may have encountered such advice."

I huffed, and she kept her glance on me.

In a manner which had the potential to make me furious, she seemed amused.

"What?" She was dangerously close to teasing me.

"Nothing," I bit back. "My," I sighed. "My mother tells me I'm an open book. Sometimes it's frustrating to have that realized in action."

If I thought she had been laughing before, I couldn't miss it now. Edythe Cullen, her face turned away from me, laughed, a sound that mirrored bells, or hollywood parties from decades past.

"You're an open book," Edythe repeated in laughter. "Yes, Bella, of course. Open book. And _I'm _the next starving saint of the United States."

I had little time to appreciate the snow in between classes, but Edythe had been right. It would be gone before the night was over, I was certain. It was only after I walked out of my last lecture of the day that I was able to breathe in the crisp cold with appreciation for its beauty, despite what I knew was coming. I was walking across the parking lot, to get to the train station, when I heard it again. The patter of laughter, I was certain, was going to be burned into my memory for the rest of my life, even if this was the last time I would hear it. I turned at the noise, and at the end of the parking lot, stood what was likely the most beautiful group of people I would ever see in one place. Two blondes, one an elegant boy with a serious gaze, the other as strikingly composed as if she had walked off of the cover of a magazine. The dark haired boy towered over her in stature, but the joy on his features was expressive and captivating. Leaning against the very expensive car that they were crowded around, was a petite girl who was startling in her feline features, with pixie short hair. She was gazing at the blonde boy with admiration, pride. The large dark haired boy was shaking his head, roaring in laughter, trying to get the snow out of his short, closely cropped hair.

Out of some instinct, I kept a wide distance, wanting desperately to observe from a distance. I saw her still, slender figure last. Against all odds, adding a new image to my stockpile, I watched, for as long as I could, as Edythe Cullen laughed with those I could only assume were her family members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the bit of the book where I'll be filling as much space as possible, trying to build as much as seems reasonable here and there!
> 
> Also, a note. I will try to update two or three times a month, but that of course may vary depending on schedule etc. etc. Predictable student stuff. 
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking! Feedback always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of something I've had in my mind for a long time. I am making a few changes to Edythe's character to make this more readable than the original narrative as Twilight, and altering the story a bit as well, though I hope to keep the overall structure much the same. 
> 
> Though this will not come to play for a while, there will be more depictions of blood and violence than brought about in the original story, as part of this narrative is bringing some horror to the vampiric love story that I felt was missing.


End file.
